


That Old Stakeout Magic

by linaerys



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-13
Updated: 2008-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linaerys/pseuds/linaerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs and DiNozzo's second time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Old Stakeout Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/)'s [porn battle](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/344051.html), but it got kinda long. Un-betaed, so _caveat lector_.

“You said never on a stakeout, boss,” said Tony, but his heart wasn’t in the protest because Gibbs’s hand caressing the back of his neck wasn’t something to complain about; it was something to press back against, to arch into, to—

“I said don’t get distracted on a stakeout. And I meant it.”

Tony had been watching for the tightening of Gibbs’s jaw that would tell him that Gibbs wanted it to, was also aching for the moment their shift finished as much as he was, but he turned his eyes reluctantly back to the house across the quiet Dupont Circle street. Gibbs’s thumb glided across the vein on the side of Tony’s neck and his pulse jumped.

“You’re as nervous as a cat, DiNozzo.” Gibbs frowned, without looking away from the house.

“Well—”

“Spit it out.”

“I don’t think . . .” _I can’t think of anything but later, of sucking you off, of . . ._ Now Gibbs’s jaw tightened but it didn’t seem to be in anticipation. Tony pressed his lips together. “Nothing.”

“You sound like my ex-wife.” He took his hand off Tony’s neck and reached for the cup of coffee long since grown cold in the SUV’s console.

“Which one?” Tony asked, because he knew it was expected of him.

Now Gibbs looked at him, and the slight crinkling of the skin at the edges of his eyes made Tony’s stomach flip-flop all over again. “All of them.”

***

Blink. Sip. Swallow. Every ten minutes like clock work, then Gibbs put the coffee cup back down and turned his head to cover the rest of the area. Tony watched too, flicking his eyes nervously over the park bench in front of Davis’s house, a young woman smoking, walking a dog, and talking on her cell phone all at the same time. Cute, but not enough to overcome the smoking thing.

Tony sat on his hands to quell the urge to fidget. Stakeouts with Gibbs were a lot more stressful than with McGee or Kate. Maybe if he got antsy enough he _would_ fidget just for the scolding Gibbs would give him, and if he was lucky, the smack on the back of the head. Something to pass the time, other than thinking about Gibbs’s hands on him again. _Again, please, again._

The car grew cold as the night wore on. Tony was reaching into the seat behind him to grab his coat when he saw Davis coming back to the house.

“He’s coming, boss. Gonna walk right by the car,” whispered Tony as he tried to slide back into his seat. Tried, because Gibbs grabbed his hips and pulled Tony onto his lap, Tony’s ass sounding the horn on its way there. Davis probably turned and looked, but if he was the red-blooded marine all their intel said he was, he probably turned away again in disgust as Gibbs wrapped his hand around Tony’s jaw and pressed their lips together, teeth and tongues colliding for a moment before Tony figured out where his mouth needed to be.

Gibbs tasted like the cold coffee, and then like himself. His lips were bruising, like no other kiss Tony’d ever had, no tenderness, just possession and domination, but it was Gibbs, and it was what he wanted.

No tenderness, that is, until the moment they broke. Tony turned to see if Davis had gone into his house yet, but Gibbs held him there forehead pressed to Tony’s for a second before allowing Tony to turn and look.

“He’s on the steps . . . boss. Getting his mail.” Tony’s breath still came hard. “Taking another look around.” He turned his face back toward Gibbs.

“Suspicious, huh?” In Gibbs’s low voice it sounded like an endearment. “He ought to be.”

Gibbs peered around the bulk of Tony’s body. “He’s inside now.” Tony sat there dumbly. “You can get off me now, DiNozzo.”

Tony nodded and slid back into the passenger seat, this time without sounding the horn. The clock read 11:53pm. Kate and McGee were due to spell them soon. Tony pressed his fingers to his lips to ease the tingling and watched lights come on in Davis’s house. Kate and McGee’s car pulled up beside them. Gibbs filled them in on the non-events of the last six hours—leaving out some important details—then pulled out of the parking space to let them in behind.

“Your car’s back at headquarters, right?” Gibbs asked as they drove.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to need it tonight?”

They stopped at a red light. Tony looked over at Gibbs. “I don’t know, am I?”

Gibbs smiled that dry, half-smile of his, and made a left turn just after the light changed. Tony stole glances at him as they drove toward Gibbs’s house, but Gibbs kept his eyes firmly on the road, hands at ten and two on the wheel. He pulled up in front of his house and jumped out, giving Tony an impatient ‘you coming?’ look half a second after closing the door.

Tony followed behind. The house smelled of wood glue; either Tony hadn’t noticed that last time or Gibbs was on some new stage of the boat project now. Maybe this time he’d get a chance to ask, but not right this minute, because Gibbs was kissing him again like he wanted to break him, hands pressing into Tony’s jaw, leg wedged between his.

He didn’t give Gibbs a chance to ask or even hint before undoing Gibbs belt, pushing down his khakis and dropping to his knees. This time he knew Gibbs liked it long and firm to start, no hands at all if he could manage it, just Tony’s mouth taking all of him. Messy too, Gibbs liked messy last time, and this time Tony didn’t try to hide the slurping noises, the pleasure he took from Gibbs’s hand fisting in his hair.

He didn’t quite fuck Tony’s face, but he let Tony know what rhythm he wanted, how hard, how fast, bruising Tony’s lips as much as his kisses had. He stopped Tony before he came and finished into a kitchen towel, which he threw into the laundry chute before pulling Tony to his feet and up the stairs. He looked stern, more so than usual, in the yellow-purple light from the street lamps, and Tony felt that same frisson of expectation and fear he had last time. He wasn’t in control here; he wasn’t in control anywhere anymore.

 _The only way out is through_ , he thought, but he didn’t really want to be out, not for a long time yet.

Gibbs’s bedroom was as neat as last time, bare walls, tightly tucked in sheets.

“Take off your clothes,” said Gibbs.

Tony watched Gibbs as he unbuttoned his shirt—not provocatively, they weren’t in a teasing place anymore—but he still went too slow and a look of impatience crossed Gibbs face.

“You don’t have to fold your shirt, DiNozzo.”

“Call me Tony,” he said, not sure why he said it. Authority made him petulant, maybe.

Again that dry half-smile. Gibbs didn’t have to say ‘I’ll call you whatever I want’ for Tony to hear it, to swallow. Gibbs walked toward him slowly, and Tony swallowed, mouth gone dry. He’d come back here as long as Gibbs let him, as long as Gibbs could do this to him.

“Please,” he said when Gibbs put his hand on Tony’s shoulders, blunt fingers splayed across the skin.

“I wanted to work harder than that to make you beg,” Gibbs said, voice low, so low Tony felt it in his stomach, or maybe that was more anticipation.

“Next time.” Tony’s lips brushed across Gibbs’s when he spoke. “I can take . . .” He trailed off, appalled at his own suggestion—he could hardly take this.

“I’ll find that out sooner or later.” The hairs on the back of Tony’s neck rose, but he didn’t have time to worry about what Gibbs meant because Gibbs pushed him back on the bed and spread Tony’s legs for him. He’d shed his own pants somewhere along the way and now he took his shirt off as well.

Tony wanted to reach up to touch, to explore, but something in Gibbs’s face forbid it. _Later. If there is a later._

There was a now, though, Gibbs’s finger sliding up into him, slicked with something, hitting deep inside. _He shouldn’t be. . . so fast, he’s too old . . ._ , Tony thought, but no, it was still just fingers, one, two, hitting hard but not hard enough until Tony gritted his teeth over another ‘please.’

“I bet you think I’m too old,” said Gibbs, conversationally, opaque, unreadable expression still in place.

So, Gibbs could read his mind here too, that was nothing new. “I bet you don’t think I can come just like this,” said Tony, trying for the same tone, and failing when his voice hitched on ‘come’ when Gibbs’s fingers opened him a little further.

“I know you can. Try not to.”

Oh God, he wasn’t that close before, but the sound of the command in Gibbs voice and he wanted nothing more than to spill over Gibbs’s fingers, now lightly, teasingly clasped around him.

“Please fuck me.”

“Begging is good. Still too easy, but good.”

Tony met Gibbs eyes and willed his breathing to still. He didn’t—he didn’t _look_ at someone he was fucking, not usually, but this was so far from the usual that it didn’t matter anymore.

Gibbs looked back. Tony wondered if Gibbs was ever afraid to look, if he’d ever wanted to look away as badly as Tony did right now.

“I liked the begging better.”

Apparently he did. “That I can do. Please . . . boss.”

Gibbs took his hand away and Tony heard the tearing of a condom wrapper, and then Gibbs pressed into him, hard and insistent, taking ground quickly until he was all the way in and Tony was burning with taking him. “Thanks,” he said, wanting to sound flip and ironic, but sounding lost instead.

He could come just from this, no hands on him at all, Gibbs _pushing_ the orgasm out of him, but he was glad when Gibbs wrapped a hand around him again, fingers warm now where they had been cold against his shoulder before, not teasing him, but pacing him so Tony’s orgasm came only a moment before his own.

He cupped Tony’s face in his hand after he came, a different touch than during those kisses before, and too fleeting. Tony had a moment to raise his eyes to Gibbs’s before Gibbs pulled out, disposed of the condom and lay down next to Tony, still close, but less intimate than that naked moment.

Now Tony yielded to temptation and let his fingers brush through the hair of Gibbs’s chest, grazing a nipple and feeling it tighten. “Next time I’ll beg more.”

Gibbs wouldn’t quite look at him, his eyes focused on Tony’s mouth instead. “Nobody can—”

“Nobody will,” Tony agreed. Gibbs traced his lips with fingers that Tony eagerly licked and sucked into his mouth.

“DiNozzo.”

Tony pulled back. Gibbs looked worried, a line drawn between his eyes that Tony wanted to kiss away. _Not yet. Maybe later._ “I promise.”


End file.
